


Old Buddy, Old Friend

by Torchiclove



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Character Death, Gen, It's sad yo, Post-Vecna Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 00:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11703195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torchiclove/pseuds/Torchiclove
Summary: "They, seven, stood against a foe insurmountable. They, two, stood against a foe defeated."





	Old Buddy, Old Friend

No matter the amount of preparation, or help from gods, or blessings from the universe, things were bound to go tits up from the start.

It’d only been an hour since they arrived in Thar Amphala. Not even a minute since they saw Vecna, in all his gruesome and unholy terror, and now there they stood. They, seven, stood against a foe insurmountable. They, two, stood against a foe defeated.

Vax’s ragged breathing was the only sound in the world as Scanlan stood, frozen, with one hand outstretched and the other clutching the Tome of Isolation, the last words still fresh on his lips. It was so quiet, when it finally happened. There one second, cocky and arrogant, and gone the next, with only the briefest look of realization in his one, wide eye. 

Scanlan dropped the book and looked at Vax, who was staring at him, wings still outstretched, daggers still clutched in his hands. They were both bloody and burned and fucked up, faces stained by tears and gore. They met eyes and snapped back to themselves, and everything they did in the next moment was telling.

Because Vax cradled his sister’s head, and Scanlan sang words that fell on deaf ears to a gnome that stared blankly at him, fingers loose but still holding on to her stained holy symbol. And he continued, made his rounds, tried to breath life back into his fallen companions.

Percy didn’t answer, charred nearly beyond recognition. Pike continued her vacant stare. There was only dust and a pair of antlers where Keyleth once stood. For the first time in his life, Grog looked small, like a broken bird. And Vax still held Vex, smoothed her hair, wiped the blood off her cooling cheeks.

The immediate question popped into Scanlan’s head, intrusive and unyielding, _How long do you have left?_

He sat down and wept, and listened to the only sounds left in the world.

 

There’s only so much time, in these situations, where one can sit and think about it, and that time was running short. Scanlan pulled out a familiar ivory door and rubbed his thumb over it. 

“Still got a spell left,” he said, and the words croaked out him, falling heavy in the frigid air.

“Right,” Vax said, his voice distant.

“Here’s as good a place as any, I suppose.” He started the incantation, the half-hearted hand gestures that were just enough to get the job done, and the door appeared, and the two remaining members of Vox Machina got to work.

They took everybody inside, laughed hollowly about how morbid it all was. Blood stained the foyer and nobody cared. Scanlan put Keyleth in an empty potion bottle. They had to use the flying carpet to get Grog inside. The rest were less of an issue.

“What do we do?” He asked, finally, when all the broken bodies were lying neatly on the floor.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve never accepted death before, there’s gotta be something we can do for them.” Even as he said it, he knew it was a lost cause. 

“No Pike, no Kiki. I think it’s time to let this one go.” 

“That’s easy for you to say,” Scanlan snapped, so quick he barely thought about it, and they both visibly winced. 

“You’re right,” he said, and his voice quivered. “No, you’re right. I’ve got to go Scanlan, and I don’t know when but I know that this is it.” He laughed, but it came out more like a sob. 

“Remember when we made a blanket fort for Percy, all the way back in Glinstshore?” Scanlan asked.

Vax nodded, and in silence they grabbed blankets, pillows, and cushions, disregarding the spectral servants that offered them assistance. 

“You were really great in that one, you know,” Vax said, finally, after long minutes of silence. “Gravity. The sphere, all that.”

Scanlan was caught off guard by the sudden break in the quiet tension, but he liked where this was going. “That’s when you saved Kynan from himself. And you got a vestige on top of it.”

“And you got spice out of it.” They both laughed at that, genuinely, not the facsimile of laughter that’d been pouring out of them like a broken record. “What were you thinking?”

“I was cool! It was dangerous and shady and I thought I was cool!”

“And that’s where you got your stupid fucking crime name-”

“The meatman still holds power in Ank’harel!”

They reminisced the night away, the good and the bad, all stupid plans and thrilling victories. They told each other what happened in the year they’d spent apart, and all night Scanlan watched Vax.

He watched as the color drained from his already-pale face, how his hands, once so deft, began to fumble and shake. After a few hours, it was Scanlan doing most of the talking as Vax listened serenely, eyes distant and unfocused. His voice, interjecting to amend or add a detail here and there, became weaker as the time wore on. 

“You forgot the part where Trinket tore the vampire’s head off,” he muttered, eyes closed, as he listened to Scanlan retell a story he’d told just an hour ago.

“Bullshit, Trinket never-” Scanlan stopped, mid-sentence, as the realization hit him. “Trinket!”

Vax watched lazily as the gnome scrambled to his feet and looked over Vex’s body, where the Raven’s Slumber necklace still hung around her neck. He picked it up, gingerly, and invoked it to release the creature held within.

In a mass of shadow, Trinket appeared in the foyer, blood-stained and unconscious, but breathing. Scanlan whispered words of healing and watched as the bear’s eyes opened, and he gave a confused grunt.

“Buddy!” Vax called, holding out his arms, and Trinket responded to the familiarity, bounding over and excitedly licking Vax’s face. Vax smiled widely and scratched Trinket behind the ears, cooing and laughing.

It was heartwarming to watch, even though Scanlan hated that damn bear.

Trinket, against all odds, wasn’t dumb, and after his initial joy, he could sense that something was wrong. He could see the bloody messes all laid together, among them Vex, and he lumbered over to her.

He poked her unmoving body with his snout, licked her cold face. He grunted incessantly, to no avail. Bears can’t cry, it’s not in their biology, but Trinket wailed for his dead mother, and it was a sight too grim to bear. 

Scanlan would probably never admit that it was the bear who broke the dam walling back his grief. Scanlan would never talk again about how he sat on the floor and cried in tandem with a mourning bear, while he watched his only remaining companion die slowly. 

But as with all things, it didn’t last forever, and eventually Scanlan dried his tears and Trinket wore himself out, and they made their way back to Vax, who was barely conscious. 

Trinket snuggled up to Vax and, exhausted, slept. Scanlan held Vax’s hand as his eyes struggled to stay open, in those last few moments.

“Tell everyone I said hi,” he said, through tears.

“No problem, buddy,” Vax murmured, and he closed his eyes. His chest rose and fell, even though he didn’t need the air, and he looked so peaceful in his slumber.

Scanlan squeezed his hand and fell asleep on the mess of blankets.

He woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, blood caked everywhere and dried snot on his face. He saw a bear, still sleeping, four bodies laid neatly on the ground, and a suit old leather armor, empty beside him.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the exclusively between the times of 2:15 AM and 3:45 AM, but it was strangely cathartic. Basically thought to myself, what if Scanlan was the last man standing, followed by, wait Trink is in the necklace, followed by, wait it'd be sadder if Vax wasn't killed in combat.


End file.
